Never Cross a Pissed Off Ginger
by MorgieSan
Summary: Not even accidentally. Or: In which Alexis contemplates patricide. Just a little bit cracky. / Oh look, I bring you another chapter of Alexis being just a little hormonally crazed. Enjoy.
1. Chapter 1

Notes: Nikki decided to be a whole new level of creep tonight, and in response to her weirdness I wrote this. Blame her for giving me the idea by being so whiney about the lack of chocolate in her life and how annoyed she is by life right now.

Disclaimer: I don't own Castle.

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><p>Alexis never felt like this. Not ever. She never had this seething anger. She never had this desire to stab things repeatedly. No, not things. People. Person, more specifically. Normally, she loved her Dad. Normally, she could handle whatever insanity he threw her way. Normally, she could tune out his manic behavior. Normally, his insanity did not make her so clinically murderous. Of course none of that explained why she was <em>seriously<em> considering shoving him down an open elevator shaft. Maybe the stairs would be easier? She could get him on the balcony too. She had options. Too many really.

Martha saw it coming from miles away. She'd made herself so completely scarce from the loft it was like she was a ghost. A friendly ghost who dropped off bricks of dark chocolate, only organic of course, and the most delicious chamomile tea Alexis had ever tasted. It was bordering on obnoxious. The only person who could've talked her down from this ledge was in hiding. While the fairy like delivery of chocolate and tea was helpful, it didn't exactly move her up very far on the list. It put her about three notches above her father.

He absolutely had to go. Then Paige. Paige had been blowing her phone up all day long. Is there a word for when you kill your best friend? Doubtful. After Paige she was going to fly to California and end Ashley. End him. His long, sorrowful, mopey, and dopey e-mails, texts, and voicemails were driving her right on over the edge. Maybe she could drive him over the edge of a cliff. Leap from the car at the last minute, and save her own skin. The spot between Ashley and her grandmother was filled by Jules. Good old Jules. The whore-faced friend. Just because Alexis didn't necessarily want Mr. Squirrel-Equivalent-IQ did not mean it was okay for her so called friend to take him home that night and bang him senseless. That was just wrong.

Maybe Kate would let her borrow her gun. She'd understand, wouldn't she? She did spend day after day after day with her dad. She could sympathize with these feelings. She was about ten seconds from chucking something large at his head. He won't stop humming that awful song, and it had been grating on her nerves for the better part of her afternoon. She slammed the AP Lit book shut. It was thick, but not one of the heaviest books she had. Her other options were AP Statistics and her AP Lit reading, _Of War and Peace. _Big, heavy, thick, it would do. But it wasn't until her eyes landed on the coffee table that she found the perfect weapon. It was her Dad's copy of _Poor Fellow My Country _by Xavier Herbert. She was sure she'd heard her father mention that the novel had close to one million words.

Her father had, of course, ignored the slamming book. He'd paid no attention to the cold look in her eyes. He'd failed to notice her slipping from her stool at the country and walking, no, stalking to the living room. She grabbed the book, tested its weight in her hands. Heavy enough to do some damage, but certainly not kill him. It would get him to shut up though. She hauled the book back to the kitchen and stood at one end of the island. He continued to chatter away. Oblivious, as usual.

"Dad."

Castle spun to face her and she left him almost no reaction time before she launched the book at his head. Unfortunately, she completely misjudged the amount of force she would need to maintain the height and it sailed towards his chest at an alarming rate. It caught him, he caught it, and it knocked him back against the counter, breathless.

"Next time, I won't miss. Shut. Up," she growled, grabbing her travel mug of tea and the rest of her chocolate brick. "Are we clear?"

The man nodded mutely and dropped the heavy book onto the counter. In a feat of speed she didn't know he was capable of he donned his coat and shoes and was gone. In the span of time it took for her to blink he had vacated the apartment, probably seeking refuge at his not-quite-girlfriend's apartment. Traitor. She should warn Kate, but that would probably just get him sent home sooner. No, she was going to enjoy her nice quiet apartment, her bittersweet chocolate, and her nice quiet apartment. It bore repeating.

She sighed as she climbed the stairs to her room. "Fuck, now I'm horny."

"Castle? What are you doing here?" Kate asked as she tugged self consciously at her t-shirt, willing it to be less threadbare.

"I think she tried to kill me." He pushed past her and went to grab a bottle of wine from the rack in her kitchen. "She just... I barely had time to react," he mumbled, corking the bottle and pouring them both overly full glasses of the robust red.

It was then that she noticed how pale he was. He wasn't smiling, and that spark that was normally in his eye was gone.

"You raise them, and then suddenly they're attempting patricide!" He took a large drink from his goblet and turned to face her. "You have to hide me."

"Why did she try and kill you? What were you doing?"

"What was I? What was I doing?" he sputtered, gesticulating wildly and causing the wine to dangerously swirl in the glass. "I was making dinner. That's all I was doing. She was studying and I was cooking, and then WHAM! She's throwing a novel at me. I think she was aiming for my head!"

"Were you doing that humming thing you do?"

"I don't hum!" he defended, weakly.

"You hum all the time when you're in the break room messing with that espresso machine."

"So, I might've been humming, so what?"

"How long have you been raising a teenage girl?" she asked, pushing him aside so she could get to the stove that held her rapidly cooling dinner.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means," she started, stopping to pull an extra plate out, "that Aunt Flo is in town, or on her way."

"Who?"

Kate paused and quirked her eyebrow at him. "You are an enigma. You live with two women, and you've yet to pick up on the signs of PMS? It's that time of the month, Castle." She shoved a plate at him and grabbed a couple of forks from the drawer behind her. "With all the crap she's had these last couple of weeks, it's easy to see why she tried to kill you."

He placed their wine glasses on the table and then carried his plate over. "Does that mean you'll hide me?"

"You're staying on the couch. I still sleep with my gun, and I will use it on you if you so much as breathe on my door."

"I'll be good! I'll be good!" he promised, dropping into his seat and pushing her chair out with his foot. "You won't even know I'm here."

"I highly doubt that you can be that quiet," she teased sliding a fork towards him after she'd taken her own seat. "I appreciate the sentiment though."

"Kate?" he asked, after ten minutes of eating filled silence.

"Hmm," she hummed her response from around the lip of her wine glass.

"I never pegged you for the kind of girl to wear a polka-dotted bra." He also wasn't expecting a wine shower, but her spit-take nailed him.

"Perv," she scolded, leaving the table to go put on a sweatshirt.


	2. Chapter 2

I wouldn't exactly call it the "long awaited" sequel, but here is more fun with Alexis and her mensuration related mood swings. This was written after three A.M., so it became a case of filter what filter I don't need no stinking filter. I'm also sure that some of this comes from having to listen to the crazy things that come out of my roommates mouth, so... You can thank/blame her.

Disclaimer: I am too poor to own anything.

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><p>Alexis groaned and fell face first into her bed. The only thing worse than getting your period two days early and in the middle of class, was getting your period two days early and in the middle of gym class (while climbing that mother fucking rope no less, "Look everyone, as the blood rushes forth from my vagina 15 feet above your heads!"). She wasn't sure if she wanted to cry or eat her weight in chocolate (or pizza, that sounded good too). First she needed to shower, but it was so far away and her bed was so... here. Just a short nap (who was she kidding, she knew short was code for 12 hours), that's all she needed. A nap and her toothbrush, because that brownie she had grabbed from the coffee shop on her way home had definitely left a bizarre aftertaste in her mouth (maybe if she squinted really hard she could pretend they were pot brownies and she was a rebel!).<p>

She even briefly entertained reading some fan fiction (and by read fan fiction she means find the smuttiest smut to ever smut and hunker down with that and her feels). Maybe Harry Potter? She always gets a kick out of Harry Potter smut (because she totally pretends it says Alexis and not Ginny). She was just beginning to like this idea when the cramps started (the 'from hell' part went without saying).

So crying it was then, and the ugly kind too. The big wracking sobs with the snot bubbling out of her nose, what a sight. After about five minutes of that it petered off into staccato hiccups and sniffles, but she still couldn't find the energy to get up and move (which she did need to find quickly, it was beyond time for a tissue). Like a turtle stuck on it's back she rocked back and forth until she finally flipped over, unfortunately she was a little too close to the edge of the bed and ended up in the floor for her efforts.

Okay, now she was a little pissed (a good thing, since it was making her fidgety, and that meant movement). She scowled at her bed and gave it a feeble kick before getting up and stomping into the bathroom to blow her nose and enjoy a nice long-steamy-hot-naked-hot- oh shit, where was she going again? Right. The shower. Sent down from heaven. By the patron saint of showers. With all the functions and dual sprays and that shower head (sweet nibblets that shower head). Yes, it was shower time.

Alexis discarded her clothing near her hamper, with the decidedly soiled gym clothes, and made a beeline for her marbled heaven. A quick lock of the door doubly ensured her privacy, but she did prop her vanity chair up under the handle just in case, and turned the knob on her shower to Mordor (which, sadly, didn't get the water hot enough to melt her skin off of her bones, damned scald protection). As the room steamed up she sort of forgot all about all the nice things her shower could do for her and just plopped down onto the tile and let the water pound away at her stomach, doing much to assuage her cramps.

After what felt like an hour (in reality it was 45 minutes of shower, 50 tops) she crawled out of her own personal steam room and cooled herself on the hardwood floor in her bedroom, like that dog they had for a week when she was seven (he bit Gina and had to go). She's fairly certain she blacked out at some point, because the sun set on her. It was shining, and then one blink later she could see the glow from the streetlights in her window. Alexis after dark!

Her inner horny hell beast was back (totally pissed about the shower thing, btw) and was hampering her ability to not get turned by the thought of changing her tampon. Damn, she was kind of a perv wasn't she? She made a mental note to get herself good and laid next week (Ashley was just not the kind of guy who was up for earning his red wings), and crawled back into the sauna. Seriously, how was her bathroom still this hot?

A quick trip to the toilet and a fresh tampon later she felt like a new woman, a still incredibly horny new woman, but a new woman nonetheless. What could she do to distract herself? Surfing the internet was totally out of the question (smut and porn were north and she was south), food was not in her room, the thought of TV made her a little queasy, and her nap had left her fairly refreshed. What. To. Do. Children's books. Yep, she was going to readathon some Dr. Seuss.

Three books into Seussfest (making it sound more official, amidoinitrite?) that itch was still there, low in her abdomen. She was pretty sure it wouldn't take much to scratch it either. She bit down on her lip and smacked herself in the face with "Bartholomew and the Oobleck" (thank goodness she had had the foresight to not just grab the anthology). That didn't work, because still horny. Worst. Period. Ever. Clearly, Alexis was in for the week from hell, the kind of hell where you try not to think about sex and then give in and torture your poor aching vagina. Ashley so owed her after this.

Fuck it. She crawled from her bead and made her way down to the kitchen. She was going to bake her feelings. Cakes. Muffins. Biscuits. Pie. Cookies. Cookies would be coming out of her ass (no really, it will probably be the only thing she eats this week). Her father wisely cleared out when she came home, having learned his lesson after the book incident. Probably went to see Kate, it's usually where he ended up, nowadays. Did they really think she didn't know they were dating I mean- OH MY GOD THAT WHORE. Alexis slammed the flour down onto the counter, miraculously managing to avoid an explosion. Never realize that your dad is getting laid, ever. Also never realize that someone you know is probably having sex as you think the thought when you are that horny, even if that sex is with your dad. Fuck, man.

She measured out the appropriate amount of flour for cookie batch one as she grumbled to herself about everyone else's sex life (she probably needed to find a therapist after this, because she is so focused on her dad's sex life right now, ugh). Then the sugar, people were going to be lucky if these cookies didn't turn out penis shaped.


End file.
